Girls' Night
by Inevitablemoving
Summary: After losing a bet, Dipper must partake in Girls' Night with his sister and her friends. Dipper finds out things about himself that he never knew before...
1. Prologue

**Girls' Night**

 **Prologue:**

" _How did this happen_?" Dipper groaned, as he fell on the comfort of his bed to escape the pain, while his sister skipped around behind him, in the midst of an ecstatic victory dance.

But Dipper knew full well how it happened. It was early that morning, and already Mabel was up and about, organizing and preparing for something, until it finally peaked Dipper's interest.

He confronted her in their room. "Okay, what's up?"

"Come on, Dipper! Don't you know its Girls' Night?"

Dipper grumbled in agony at the announcement. "Does this _need_ to be every week?"

"Does a puppy _need_ petting?" she asked philosophically.

"No. No it doesn't," Dipper confirmed.

"Come on Dip, you should join in sometimes! It'd be great!"

Dipper chortled. "No, what would be great is if I don't have to clean out the mess you guys make every night."

Mabel gave a conspiratorial hush, and a look of brashness. "Alright, Dip. Let's have a little bet." She grabbed a nearby ball of yarn from beside her bed. "I bet with just a ball of yarn, I can drop an egg while I'm on the window, and it won't break. If it breaks, and you win, no Girls' Night at the Shack tonight. If _I_ win,you have to join in. You game?"

Dipper laughed. "You think some yarn could stop an egg from getting broken from the window? I'll take that bet!"

They made the handshake that sealed the deal, both staring at each other with cunning superiority. Later that day, Dipper stood confidently by their window, awaiting his sister's entrance. She entered with the egg wrapped in only a small lining of yarn, yet still attached to the ball.

Dipper snorted. "You think that's gonna protect the egg?"

Mabel smiled but said nothing, as she opened the window. Dipper started to laugh in anticipation at how this would go. He almost felt bad for Mabel having acted so foolishly, but the sweet release of no Girls' Night was a liberating idea. He waited for her to drop it, but instead, she took the ball, and then slowly lengthened the thread that connected the egg with the ball. Dipper realized to his horror she was gently lowering the egg to the ground by increasing the thread length.

"Hey! That's not what we agreed!" he complained.

"What?" Mabel said slyly. "We agreed! I'd drop it while I was on the window! Didn't say how far it'd drop, did I?"

Dipper screamed internally, as the egg was met with a devastating half-inch plunge. A few seconds later came the voice of Stan. "Hey! Who left a perfectly good egg out here?"

Dipper knew he'd been completely outfoxed. He was really bad at making deals, it seemed; he should probably refrain from these things in future. The memories were already cringe-inducing as he lay back on his bed, and his sister's victory dance grated him.

"Dip, come on!" Mabel pushed him. "You've gotta get ready!"

Dipper looked up in confusion. "Ready? Ready how?"

"Duh! It's _Girls' Night_. You've got to _at least_ dress up!"

He suspiciously looked around. "I'm not on Ker-pranked, am I?"

"No, you scallywag! But you have to dress-up!"

"Oh no!" declared Dipper defiantly. "I don't care what you say, there is absolutely no way in a million years that I will _ever_ dress up like a girl for your slumber party! Not now, not ever! Absolutely, positively, no way in heck!"

* * *

ONE HOUR LATER

* * *

"See? Told you I wouldn't," said Dipper, reading the Journal nonchalantly on his bed.

Mabel stood beside him, already in her pajamas in anticipation for the night ahead, and slightly downcast at his resistance. However, she was not willing to give in. "Come on, bro! You'd love it!"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Sure, and I bet they'll make new Star Wars movies too." He smirked at the patent absurdity of his own statement.

Mabel sighed, and began to turn around, before she stopped, alight with a Eureka moment; a much more devious one than the old Greek's. Her eyes morphed to a wicked glint, and a diabolical smile. Reversing her direction, she walked up to her brother with an ingratiating look, hands behind her back. Standing just beside him, she smirked.

"Okay Dip, how's this for size? If you don't dress up for Girl's Night, _I'll tell Wendy about your internet history_."

An Arctic chill swept up Dipper's spine. His pupils dilated, and the grip on the Journal softened. Already his skin was paler, and sweatier. Without looking, he stammered, "Wait…what did-"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel leered cunningly. "I know all about it…"

Dipper began to shake. "I-I…"

"…You're into _Anime_? What, those Chinese cartoons?" she asked in a scandalized tone.

Dipper felt a weight lift off his shoulder that would liberate Atlas. He fell back on his bed in relief, smiling thankfully. "What, Anime? Yeah!" he nodded awkwardly. "That's…super weird, huh?"

Mabel laughed. "Oh yeah, and all that stuff about Redheads…"

Dipper leapt off the bed in primal fear, gasping in terror, and looking around in case there were any witnesses to his shame. He walked close to his sister, to keep his words quiet, and stop others overhearing.

"Mabel!" he said in the loudest tone one could use while still technically a whisper, "You can't do that! It's an invasion of privacy!"

She raised a crafty eyebrow, and leaned in towards him, grinning wildly, elbowing jovially. "More like _those videos_ were an invasion of privacy, am I right?"

Dipper saw his whole life flash before his eyes, including those videos, but that wasn't really a good time. He was left speechless and without a plan. He felt that if Wendy knew about those videos, she would probably put a restraining order on him, and that would be inconvenient for a number of reasons. At this point, there was absolutely nothing that didn't involve some unpleasant deed; he could try praying, but knowing his luck, the Big Guy was probably just laughing his butt off, if he wasn't grossed out about what he was watching online. His options narrowing, he gritted his teeth in fury, and relented.

"Alright! Fine! I'll do your stupid dress-up!"

He was cut off by a hug from his sister; he didn't hug back. Mabel released him, and ran back to collect the outfit he would need, with an infectious passion that would have charmed anyone on Earth except Dipper at that particular moment. He sat down on his bed, and looked at his watch. It was all going to kick off in around half an hour, Seven O'Clock, and last well into the night. The worst thing was that bedtime scheduling was annulled for Girl's Night, and it could potentially go on all night, _or into the morning_. _What if it never stopped_? Still, he at least tried to look on the bright side, and hey, maybe the gear wouldn't be so embarrassing…

"My Shooting-Star sweater!" Mabel gasped. "It's perfect!"

Dipper collapsed back onto his bed in pain and dread, though he had one last thing to say. "…And they're _Japanese_ Cartoons, thank you very much!"

 **KHOOR GDUNQHVV PB ROG IULHQG...**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Mabel paced around the outside of both her and her brother's bedroom with such frantic energy that if they stuck her to a generator, she could power the planet. Awaiting the reveal of her brother's new attire on the intended man himself, the anticipation bringing her near to bursting. Trembling eagerly, she kept an alert ear for any hints or clues coming from the other side. Every creak told a story, but under her eternal optimism, she always found a way to spin it favourably.

"Dipper!" she called out excitedly. "Candy and Grenda'll be here any minute! I've gotta see how you look!"

"Mabel," said the uptight voice on the other side, "If I looked into the _mirror_ , the _mirror_ would probably kill me."

"Oh come on, Dip!" she reassured him, jumping by the doorknob. "It's all my best clothes! What could possibly go wrong!?"

"You can't see it, but my face is judging you...bad."

"I want to see!" she bellowed.

A tired sigh on the other side signalled the end of the delay. Footsteps slowly creaked towards the door, until it awkwardly, and half-heartedly opened, to reveal the figure on the other side. There was Dipper, and while the first thing to notice was his frustrated, glazed face, the rest was a sight to behold. His hat was gone, replaced by a purple headband that served no obvious function. The most noticeable item was of course the Shooting Star Sweater, a pinkish red that could be made illegal for eye-assault, and a rainbow coloured comet trail that annoyed Dipper immensely, for its blatant scientific inaccuracy. The sleeves were much too large for Mabel, and were hence much too large for Dipper. The tips of his fingers poked through the ends like the first flowers of Spring. He held out his arms at an awkward perpendicular angle, as if he was being crucified, a fine comparison in his opinion. Last but not least was the skirt, which felt entirely unnatural and restrictive, not to mention a purple that he did not agree with, though in the grand scheme if things, it could be coloured by Michelangelo, but it wouldn't matter, since it was still _a skirt_.

While Dipper had the face of a man who was 'awaiting the sweet, sweet release of death' as Stan once said, Mabel smiled. Then she smiled harder, and harder still, until her face lit up like the Fourth of July. Her hands clutched her cheeks, and her eyes nearly watered from the overwhelming joy she got from the cuteness. She squeed daintily and hugged him, again unreciprocated.

"You look perfect!"

"Mabel, how the heck do you manage with this stuff?" he replied irritably. "This headband? Literally why? This sweater! It's like I'm in a prison! A prison where I can barely move my arms around! And these sleeves? Why are they so long?" he asked, peeling them with back with his teeth to unleash his hands.

Mabel grinned. "They're so long because it's like getting a hug all over!"

"But the material is so _awkward_."

Mabel gave a sceptical but cheery glance. "This is your Asperger's talking, isn't it?"

Dipper guffawed and spluttered. "Mabel! For the thousandth time, I do not have Asperger's Syndrome!"

"Oh come on bro, we all see the signs! How awkward and sweaty you are, how you just keep talking about the stuff you're into all day, how weird your voice is, and how you get so sensitive sometimes!"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "So having Asperger's is the same thing as being a 12 year old boy? _Right_ …And _why_ are we all meant to be barefoot?"

Mabel laughed. "Well isn't it obvious? So you can't escape!"

That line should have terrified Dipper more than it did, but his glare held firm, as he had no fear of death at this point.

Mabel gave Dipper an appreciative pat. "You're doing great, bro! Trust me, we're all gonna have the best time together!"

Before Dipper could reply, they heard the doorbell ring.

"Coming!" called Mabel eagerly. She turned back towards her brother. "They've got to see you!"

Dipper groaned. "Do I have to?"

Mabel didn't need to say a word, only mouth one: "Redheads."

Dipper was freshly reinvigorated through a healthy dose of trepidation, dashing down the stairs, even ahead of his sibling. Reaching the door, he braced himself for whatever would come next, as his sister followed after. She gave a supportive, thankful nod in his direction as she opened the door. Dipper looked to the ground, hoping that it wouldn't be _too_ embarrassing.

"Guys!" she announced joyously. "Come in!"

As the single shadow by the door became three, Dipper tensed himself for the inevitable reaction. His first clues were the dropped sleeping bags, then the onrush of feet towards him, until finally confirmed by a collective squee so high in pitch that dolphins could hear.

"Dipper, when were you so… _kawaii_?" asked Candy bashfully.

"You look awesome! Like Mabel, but a boy!" Grenda confirmed.

His sister ran around and slung a familial arm over his shoulders. "Alright guys, we got a new member of the club, just for tonight! He's my brother, Dipper! Now, as part of the deal, he had to dress up in one of my sweaters, _that you can buy at the ol' Mystery Shack for an honest price I might add_ , and I don't want any of you to make fun of him! He's just another one of the team like any of us, alright? So let's be nice to him!"

"Right!" Candy and Grenda agreed without hesitation.

Dipper was slightly relieved if he was being honest. His worst fear was that he would be mocked, or derided, so this was definitely a step-up. As he processed the whirlwind of events that had unfolded since the day began, he slowly began to realize something; there was nothing malicious about any of the process. Sure, he was kinda blackmailed, but he could still tell that Mabel wanted him to be happy, and she really didn't have to go that extra way to making sure that no one would make fun of him. Heck, from the sound of it, none of them wanted to make fun of him even then. It offered hope that he could stay undetected for the majority of the night, and survive intact.

Candy and Grenda changed into their pajamas too, leaving Dipper the only one conspicuously wearing Mabel's day clothes; it seemed that he really had to prove his gusto. Mabel had already gotten the usual inventory for the occasion: the sleeping bags, the rom-coms, the makeover kit, and 'Calling all boys: Preteen edition.' If this wasn't the first thing that made Dipper want to jump off the roof, it was a shoe-in for second. That said, he was interested in the sleeping bag angle; he could pass the whole thing off like a camping trip gone horribly, horribly wrong. As the girls giggled at their indecipherable in-jokes, and gathered their items, Dipper, frown unyielding yet unnoticed, confronted his sister.

"Why do we have so many 90s Rom-coms?" Of all the questions on his mind, this was somehow most pressing.

"Well, duh! We're 90s kids, Dipper! We've got to celebrate our Heritage!"

Dipper squinted. "Mabel…you were born in August 1999. You are not a 90s kid, no matter how many times you watch Pocahontas."

"But we're 90s kids _at heart_. Don't worry it'll be great! We'll talk about boys, do _crazy_ things that we'll be embarrassed about forever, and we're all gonna hit the hay so late that we'll be _wrecked_ by morning!"

Dipper nodded mechanically, having long since abandoned hope. "Sounds _great_ Mabel. But before I do any of this, can I go to the bathroom?"

"Sure, have fun!" Mabel enthusiastically confirmed, rushing upstairs.

Dipper stopped for a second to try and process what on Earth she meant, before realizing 'Mabel'. Having gone to the bathroom, doing what a man had to do, he looked at himself in the mirror, which was kind enough not to shatter in second-hand cringe. Looking at himself in the serene calm of the bathroom, he started to see that maybe it wasn't _so_ bad. Perhaps the embarrassment was decaying from after the initial reveal, but it seemed like he was starting to appreciate things a little. The headband was awkward, but oddly soothing to the cranium. The sweater itself, both sleeves now rolled up to a convenient degree, had a genuinely soft and touchable quality that made him feel secure and comfortable (Mabel didn't have Sweater-town for nothing). The skirt was still a skirt, but it was…breezy; appreciated in the Summer night. Dipper searched for fury about his predicament, but couldn't find anything within him. He felt he _should_ be angrier at what had become of him, but for whatever reason, he felt fine. Not great by any stretch, but when your expectations are so low that they're right next to the Mole People, it was fine.

He stepped out of the bathroom, and turned to the stairs. As he walked, he heard a noise from behind him. He stopped, and listened in, before discerning the smug cackling of his Grunkle Stan, as the man himself stepped out behind him, blissfully unaware of Dipper's presence. Stan was stepping backwards out of a room, lost in his amusement, holding a large cardboard box with no labels, wearing a Sombrero, fake moustache, and a Mariachi suit.

"Heh, heh," Stan laughed, unaware of Dipper's baffled looks, " _that's_ why you should always shoot a man before throwing him out of a plane!"

Turning in Dipper's direction, he froze. If he was stopped at the boy's gazing, the dress Stan saw him in would paralyse him with fear and confusion. Dipper's own attire slowly emerged in his mind, as he realized how this was probably the _last_ thing he wanted Stan to see him in. The two gawked at each other's get-up, both much too afraid, or baffled to want to make the next move.

Dipper stepped up. "Um…Grunkle Stan!" he laughed awkwardly. "Uh…I'm wearing a kilt!" he assured him, with all the sincerity of, well, Stan.

"Oh!" Stan nodded slowly, eyes darting around for witnesses. "Didn't know we had Scottish ancestry…"

"Well, you know, _mom's_ _side_ and all…" he chuckled, noticeably shaking in fear.

"That makes sense!" Stan awkwardly nodded, staring at Dipper's headband and sweater. "Me?…I'm celebrating Cinco De Mayo!…In July!"

"G-great!" Dipper announced cheerily. "Isn't it like, so weird that we _may_ have just come on to each other at like, the _worst_ possible times? Phew! Glad we both cleared that up," he sighed, wiping his brow.

"Dipper!" came Mabel's voice from upstairs. "Hurry up! Girls' Night isn't gonna start without you!"

At that exact moment, Dipper could see and hear a rummaging in the cardboard box Stan was holding. Stan tightened his grip, and began to shake it. "Go to sleep! You hear me!?" he barked nervously at the box.

The pair stared at each other in overwhelming embarrassment and intrigue as to what the heck was going on with the other. They were both sweating, staring uncomfortably, and so tense they could snap. But one thing was for sure; their own embarrassment weighed much heavier on their minds than fascination for their accomplice.

Stan shot a desperate glance. " _I didn't see nothin' if you didn't see nothin'!_ "

"Agreed!" Dipper said so fast it strained his tongue.

The pair scampered in opposite directions, hoping to forget what they just saw. Dipper reached the bottom of the stairs, catching his breath, and praying that Stan wasn't going to go tougher on him. He was at least relieved, since, after all, nothing the girls could throw at him could be worse than _that_!

Clambering the stairs, he caught up with the girls in his room. They were all sitting on the floor, Mabel closest, with her back turned, flanked by Grenda on the left, Candy on the right, and a conspicuous empty space opposite his sister. They were all sitting around something, and Dipper cautiously craned his neck to see what was going on.

Mabel spun around, an ecstatic look on her face. "Dipper!" she smiled, "Come on! You're just in time!"

She leaned backwards, to reveal the game they were all about to play. Dipper saw the conspicuous object in the middle of the group; it was more demonic than a Ouija Board. His eyes shot open, and his skin turned pale, cold sweat all over. He leant back against the door in horror, hands to his face in fright at the monster before them:

Spin the Bottle

 **VWDQ GRHVQ'W OLNH KRWKHDGV**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

While Mabel, Candy, and Grenda held their explosive urge to break into song and dance at the start of 'Spin the Bottle', Dipper started at the monster just a few inches from his feet. Even now, the angle was pointing somewhat in his direction; a twisted foreshadowing of what was to come. His eyes were transfixed and mortified at the crooked, near-opaque glass, and whatever doom it promised its victims. The worst case scenarios ran through his head: Being asked when was his first kiss? Dared to do something gross? Or dared to do something _with the Journal_?

Mabel called the group to order. "Alright, guys! It's time we play Spin the Bottle!"

Candy gave Dipper an eager nudge on his shoulder. "You know how to play, right?"

Dipper nodded. "Yeah, I went to a party with one of Mabel's friends once. Mabel got sick, so to pass the time I joined in. All the girls agreed to have a special rule where if it landed on me, they could only high five, and not kiss me."

The oxygen vanished in the room. Dipper sighed as he remembered the sadness, while Candy and Grenda looked in shock at Mabel, whose shame gave a painful confirmation. The tension in the air was so thick you couldn't cut it with a knife; it would just hang there. Mabel awkwardly tried to bring the proceedings back to order with a disarming laugh.

"Well…uh…let's get started, huh?" she chuckled, as she unleashed the bottle's devastating twirl. Mesmerizing, hypnotic, it kept on revolving, until it reached its target.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" quaked Dipper, hands to his head, as it was revealed fate chose him as the prey.

Mabel was unsure what to do, scratching the back of her neck to try and come up with some compromise that didn't hurt her brother too much. 'Come on Mabel!' she thought to herself, 'He needs to learn to loosen up.' Then another voice came in. 'Come on Mabel! Can't you see he doesn't want this?' The main problem with Mabel was she never quite knew which voice was the angel on her shoulder, and which was the demon. A compromise had to be reached.

"Right! So, Truth or Dare? _Truth or Dare_?" she asked herself, rolling back and forth at what was the right way to go.

'Please don't say 'dare', please don't say 'dare', please don't say 'dare'…' Dipper thought desperately to himself.

"Truth!" came Mabel's affirmation.

Dipper sighed in relief, gaining his first smile of the evening. It could have gone in the record books for how short it was, considering that Dipper immediately realized that he didn't exactly want a 'Truth' either. He awaited Mabel's words like a man to the firing squad.

His sister toyed for a question, thinking about everything she could. "I got it!" she proudly announced. "Dipper, if you could go out with any boy, who would it be?"

Dipper's fear reverted to mild confusion, and almost disappointment. Strange how he almost wanted a terrifying, soul crushing question, but that was just _weak_. Mabel just couldn't keep her boy-craziness out of the way, could she?

"I dunno," he replied honestly. "Haven't really thought about it."

"Come on!" his sister grinned. "Tell us!"

Dipper looked to his left and right to see Candy and Grenda look in anticipation for his choice. He felt that he might as well have something boxed up somewhere. No doubt these girls _loved_ their boys, so maybe he should aim for someone they'd be interested too. As he pondered, he finally found a way out. He prepared his short answer.

"Okay, if I could go out with any boy, I'd pick Leonardo DiCaprio about the time he did 'Romeo and Juliet'. You remember, Mabel? We watched it in class, and I just thought to myself, 'You know, he's so much more handsome than she is pretty'. I don't even remember the girl's name, but Leo just looked absolutely great in that shirt and all. The blonde hair just really looks good on guys especially for whatever reason. He just looked so great at that time, and don't get me wrong, he still looks great and all, but _man_ did he look good in that movie.

"Woah! Hold on! You didn't specify real life people, right, so I can do fictional characters too? Oh man, in that case it has to be Captain Nemo! That guy is just _amazing_! He has that awesome beard, that cold exterior that hides a heart of gold, and he's just such a genius! He makes a submarine like, fifty years before it was even possible! Oh man, he's so mysterious and interesting, I mean, I'd just have to have a date with him, you know? Ask all his secrets, all the giant monsters he had to fight off, like the squid! Did you see the squid fight? Wow, that was intense!

"And while we're on the topic, I mean, have you not seen Arnold Schwarzenegger when he was still bodybuilding in the early seventies? _Wow_. I mean, his biceps had six-pacs he looked so good! He was _built_ , like a tank! His arms were the size of my head! Yeah, his accent was kinda weird, but, you know, I guess I'd find it cute after a while, and I'll get used to it, and we can get on together without a problem!

"And then there's-" Dipper breathlessly began, before he stopped, and began to realize what the heck he just said. Staring at the ground, lost in his thoughts, he slowly looked up to see the girls. They were all entranced, mouths agape in wonderment, devouring Dipper's lustful descriptions. Dipper had no idea what came over him to say something like that, and for such a long period of time, but bizarrely, he didn't care. No one was judging him, in fact, the girls were clearly supporting him. They awaited the next instalment of Dipper's hypothetical infatuations anxiously; he could see it in their eyes. He couldn't deny the soaring feeling, and the adrenaline rush, but he most certainly didn't understand it.

Dipper slinked back to his normal sitting position, the smile having eroded from his face. "And, uh, that's all. You know, just the usual stock replies I guess," he said nervously, eyes darting between the witnesses in case there would be any mocking; it never came.

The spell was broken, and Mabel's drooling gawk was corrected to an optimistic smile. She could see that her brother loosening up, and wanted to push the advantage.

"See, bro? That wasn't so bad! Now come on! It's your turn!"

" _My_ turn?"

"Yeah! Just spin the darn bottle!"

Dipper looked around the girls, looking for their confirmation, as if he was worried he would be blamed for whatever happened. Finding no malice, he reluctantly grabbed the bottle as though it would bite him, and gave a powerful swing. Around and around it went, until it slowed down, and landed in the direction of Grenda.

Grenda cheered, but Dipper drew a blank. "Mabel, what do I do?!" he whispered desperately.

"Come on, silly!" Mabel cheered him on. "All you gotta do is say 'Truth' and ask Grenda something embarrassing, or you say 'Dare' and make her _do_ something embarrassing!"

Dipper rubbed his head. "I don't know, I don't know if I can ask the right things."

"Pssht!" Mabel rolled her eyes with a wide grin. "All you have to do is ask them something really weird and awkward! _You're_ really weird and awkward! This should be a piece of cake!"

Dipper was unsure whether to be offended or relieved at Mabel's advice, but turned towards his accepting victim, determining things to say and do.

He pondered, and went through every variable, the effort clear on his face. "Alright, Truth! Um…Um…"

He thought deeply; what question was awkward and weird? But at last, he came up with the perfect question! He clicked his fingers, and smiled confidently at Grenda:

"So Grenda, are you afraid of death?"

He immediately realized that sounded better in his head than out loud. In fact, it didn't even sound that good in his head to begin with. Dipper's face glazed over, with the expression of someone who knew they were a dead man walking, coincidentally enough. He turned back to face his sister, whose eyebrow had soared halfway up her head, with gritted teeth, in a painful cringe. Candy had retreated her head to the inside of her pajamas to escape from the agony. Dipper himself could feel his skin fry with the fiery red blushing that enveloped his face. _How could he still be too weird and awkward, when the deal was to be weird and awkward_? 'Oh man,' he thought to himself, 'What if I _do_ have Asperger's?'

He reluctantly turned to Grenda, and much to his surprise, she retained a stoic, unoffended face. Dipper looked in confusion, but whatever confusion he had wasn't a tenth of the amount he would have after Grenda answered:

"No, not really. If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from death's anxiety, and the pettiness of life, so that only then will I be free to become myself. It's like the famous Greek philosopher, Epicurus, once observed: 'Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death has come, we are not'. So yeah, I'm cool with it."

The Twins and Candy stared in bewilderment that Grenda could house such a moral revelation, open-mouthed to the last, and completely floored.

"G-good to know," Dipper nodded, relieved that he somehow didn't come out of that segment with the most attention.

"Oh! Is it my turn?!" Grenda asked excitedly, as the next round began.

The game continued for a good while; almost every combination was tried, with the exception of Candy choosing Dipper, which seemed to annoy her for whatever reason. Dipper was forced to say 'banana' at the end of every sentence until his next turn, pretend he was an airplane, and tried to lick his elbow, which, much to his surprise, no contortion could succeed in doing. But Dipper was amazed at what was coming over him; he was actually starting to _like it_. He shouldn't have, _but he did_. He was laughing at how silly everyone was being, at how silly _he_ was being. He never acted like this before, as the bizarreness of the experience left a disarming charm. It went without saying, but it was a definite step up from the last Spin the Bottle. The main difference was that, this time, he could feel a comradery between the four of them; despite his sex, he was being treated worlds better than he ever was back in Piedmont by either girls or boys.

Finally, the group wearied of the game. "Alright guys, I think we've had enough, let's try something else," Mabel contentedly yawned.

"Oh come on!" said Dipper giddily, "One more?"

Mabel was relieved and thankful to see her brother was enjoying the proceedings; it was the smile on his face that made it all worthwhile. "Maybe later," she nodded, "But coming up next, we've got a show to put on!"

Dipper squinted in confusion, as Mabel leapt up, and skipped up to the bottom of her bed. He looked at her friends, and could see a cult-like trance glaze over their eyes, hands shaking wildly, while Mabel rummaged through her belongings. Slowly, she pulled out the relevant material; the karaoke machine.

He didn't even know what to think. It should have repulsed him on every level, after all, even killing zombies wasn't enough to make him _like_ karaoke. However, the ambience had soothed his anxiousness to the point that not even this could ruin his mood. In fact, as Candy and Grenda hooted in appreciation, he felt an odd thrill shiver through his body, which was the last thing he expected. Of course, there were his chronic, neurotic tendencies, which made him nervous of whatever was to come next.

"I'm going first!" yelled Mabel joyously.

"Why do _you_ get to go get to go first?" asked Grenda with mild disappointment.

" _Because_ ," Mabel assured her, "Your singing is just _too_ perfect!"

Dipper eye-rolled with a grin at the pandering, even as Grenda fell for it hook, line and sinker; some things were just too noticeable to not laugh at. But what would originally cause him to groan, somehow became an endearing act when you were part of the proceedings.

Getting the equipment ready, Dipper, Candy and Grenda all sat in a perfect line just a few feet from Mabel, all tucked beside each other, with Dipper in the middle. Candy seemed to snuggle in to Dipper bizarrely tightly, but he just assumed that was the homeliness of Girls' Night. They all sat with their legs tucked into themselves, the girls rocking back and forth wildly in expectation. Dipper was still too alien to the proceedings to really understand what was going on.

Finally, everything was ready, and out strutted Mabel, grabbing the microphone like she'd done this a thousand times, even as it nearly flung straight out of hands and smashed her audience's faces. Quickly getting back into the swing, she delivered all the best moves that a 12 year old suburban girl would be able to accomplish (if that girl was in the midst of medically unsafe sugar rush). "Don't start unbelieving!" she bellowed so loudly that Dipper would have cringed without any aid from the microphone whatsoever. Adding the microphone was literally painful, as was his sister's singing, and especially his sister's dancing. She continued to deliver her performance doing _literally_ everything wrong, but to Dipper's amazement, Candy and Grenda seemed to love it, with no reservations whatsoever. He asked himself what they saw in the performance that could possibly justify that support; and then he understood. Doing karaoke wasn't about music, but fun. What was undeniable to him was the clear look of delight in Mabel's eyes, and the roaring pleasure of her admirers. As he understood this, he too began to cheer, as Mabel delivered the final lines of her song. Seeing her brother cheer her, she temporarily stopped, and flubbed her lines, much to her friends' supportive laughter; she was just so happy that he liked her performance. When she stopped, Candy and Grenda screamed in approval, but Mabel's eyes remained on her brother.

"You did good," he smiled.

Mabel felt slightly teary at this endorsement; when Dipper validated her, that's when she knew she did something right.

"Now, who wants to see Grenda go for it?!" she asked.

"Everyone!" cried Grenda.

"Heck yeah!" Dipper cheered.

It wasn't bluster; he watched Grenda's performance with all the enthusiasm as if it was a BABBA reunion, and for Candy's as well. There was nothing false about any of it; the sincerity of being able to express what he liked without judgement was one of the most underrated sensations in the world. By the end of the performances, Candy, Grenda and Mabel still had all the energy they entered with.

As Candy concluded, Mabel patted her brother's shoulder. "Come on, Dip! You're next!"

Dipper's smile died a violently, as terror swept his body. He went white with anxiety, despite the approving whoops from the girls, and put his hands up to decline. "S-sorry Mabel, but I-I don't think this is a good idea…"

"Will you stop being such a buzzkill?" Mabel joked, as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and dragged him to the 'stage', before thrusting the microphone into his hands. While she was fumbling with the machine, Dipper stood awkwardly in solitude, clutching the microphone close to his chest, eyes looking back and forth, feet clamped together to minimize his presence. By this point, at least, he was used to the sweater and skirt.

"Mabel! I'll forget the words!" he fretfully whispered.

His sister smiled coyly back at him. "Trust me, you won't forget these words."

As she jumped away from the machine, leaping into the empty hole Dipper had left in the audience, wrapping her arms around her friends, as if to stay 'Get ready girls! You're gonna love my brother!' the first chords of the song started; it was Disco Girl, by BABBA. Dipper was immediately put at ease by the familiar beat, before a sharp pang of fear swept him at the thought they'd laugh at his song preference. He took a look back at the group, but in one glance could see how much they desperately, and sincerely wanted to hear him sing, without one hint of laughter on their faces. Mabel seemed especially accepting, as she winked to her brother supportively. This confirmation was more than enough to awake Dipper's disco persona.

 _Disco girl!_  
 _Coming through!_  
 _That girl is you!_  
 _OOH OOOH, OOH OOOH!_

By the first chorus alone, Dipper couldn't wipe the smile off his face, and that was just from the singing. The cheers and support from the 'crowd' removed any of his anxiousness. With every line he grew bolder; as he grew bolder, the crowd cheered harder. He got louder, more expressive, and more confident. By the final line, he strutted to the back, nearly taking the machine with him, before sliding at his final declaration, just in front of his 'fans'. At the last chord, they gang-piled on top of him, all cheering wildly at his charisma and prowess.

"Oh my gosh Dipper!" Mabel shrieked, "That was the best karaoke I've ever seen!"

"YOU RULE!" screamed Grenda, lost in the moment.

Dipper giggled innocently, perhaps even girlishly, happy with all the affection that one frivolous song could achieve. It was impossible to believe it had come to this, but, he was _loving_ it. Girls' Night was the best thing in the world if this was anything to go by. 'What else are girls holding out on?' he thought to himself. He felt privileged to enter this circle, and all the gaiety it concealed. He liked how weird everyone was being, he liked the silly games, and heck, he'd even come to like the clothes.

He began to sit up, and look his companions face to face. "Girls, I don't know how to say this, but, this has literally been the best night of my life!" he laughed, realizing he would sound like a madman to himself only an hour ago.

Candy and Grenda collectively aww'd, while Mabel gave her sibling the tightest, most appreciative hug in the world.

"I knew you'd like it, if you just gave it the chance," she whispered warmly. "Thanks bro, with you here, this is the best Girls' Night ever."

Dipper smiled thankfully. "And you're the best sister ever."

While touched, she knew the night had to continue. She let go and raced to the side of the room, collecting the make-up kit. "Who wants a makeover?" Mabel called out, her war-chest of accessories now firmly beside her.

While everyone called out, it was the plea of her brother that most attracted her attention. He had never really had one before, unless they counted the Mind-swap carpet fiasco, but they liked to pretend that didn't happen. She could see the passion in Dipper's eyes, and how high he raised his hand in the air, like the eager student he was in school, along with the compulsive "Me, me, me!" Disarmed by his goofy compulsion, she surrendered.

"Alright girls, let's give my brother a makeover!"

Dipper fist-pumped in joy, still aware of how absurd the situation was, but addicted to the thrill. Candy and Grenda grabbed him, and laid him down. Dipper let events overtake him, sniggering excitedly at the attention. "Oh man, why am I doing this?!" he shook his head in amused disbelief.

"Because you want to look gorgeous!" Candy assured him.

Mabel held down her brother's feet, as it made more sense to have the sibling do the nasty areas. Despite this, he was extremely sensitive; she had to wrap her arm around each shin to stop his fidgeting, holding down his feet.

"Quit moving!" she ordered.

"You stop being so ticklish!" he replied.

Mabel would continue with a rainbow concoction, a new colour for every toe, in parallel with the other foot, all applied delicately, without a hint of error, despite how much Dipper wiggled them at the touch, not being used to contact so far south.

Dipper's ticklishness was not confined to his feet, but the touching all over his face and hands. He noticed some differences in the techniques between the two; Grenda was very explosive in her appliance of nail varnish, while Candy went very slowly, savouring every moment. 'Huh,' Dipper thought to himself, 'Candy must really love makeovers.' While Dipper's rough, heavily bitten nails received a liberal coating of red, they eventually turned to his face. Dipper's tittering would work against him, consuming an unexpectedly large amount of powder. Despite that, as all three girls joined in the final operation, the grin on his face was infectious. He wasn't used to getting touched like this by anyone; it was a bizarrely relieving experience, like acupuncture. He was so thankful he got to experience this, as were the girls.

"Alright, bro! We're done!" announced Mabel ecstatically, racing to catch the mirror. She dragged it back, just in time for Candy and Grenda to lift him up, and for Dipper to open his eyes. Mabel was extremely happy with her work, and Dipper was much the same. He started to laugh at how crazy it was to see what he saw in front of him; the lipstick, the eye-liner, and the powder. He knew he shouldn't like it, but he didn't care; as far as he was concerned, nothing could possibly stop him from enjoying the silliness of the night.

*Knock* *Knock*

"Hey guys," said Wendy, casually stepping in. "Did any of you see my j _aaaaaaa_ …"

 **HQMRB BRXUVHOI, LW'V ODWHU WKDQ BRX WKLQN**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dipper froze at Wendy's glare. In just one moment, all of his insecurities, shames, and regrets unleashed themselves inside, tearing at his soul. He crumpled under humiliation, and lost the will to speak, as all confidence and joy inverted and destroyed itself. He looked away in dejection, but only saw the red of his fingernails, becoming even more aware of what had gone so wrong. The regret ripped at his skin, as he asked himself just what on Earth he had done. He blamed only himself for this fiasco, and this unleashed a torrent of self-loathing, which crept into every crevice of his body.

"D-Dipper?" asked Wendy with blank confusion.

He had no response, but to hear Wendy's reaction to his state was so devastating, he couldn't even try. The waterworks began, as he began to shake under his anxiety and self-hatred. Mabel attempted to put her hand over his shoulder to calm him down, as she had done before, but Dipper flung it off venomously. He lifted himself up, and ran past Wendy, out the door. He hadn't the strength to look at her as he left, covering his eyes so no one could see the tears, though the sobbing could still be heard. Racing down the stairs, and nearly tripping over in his rush, he finally reached the Break Room. He grabbed his headband and threw it hard against the door, leaving a noticeable dent. Dipper flung the door open, and shut it again with the same overwhelming force. He sat down in the cramped space, and began to weep uncontrollably in disgrace.

He didn't blame Mabel for getting him in this situation; he blamed himself for liking what he did. He _did_ like the makeover, he _did_ like karaoke, he _did_ like Spin the Bottle, and Wendy saw it and was disgusted by it. It wasn't that Wendy saw him doing something embarrassing that he didn't like, she saw him doing something embarrassing he _did like_ ; now she'd think the less of him because of it. The thing that hurt the most was that he knew this wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last time. He was always so _weird_ , and he never got anything but pain because of it. The flashbacks gashed their way into his mind:

* * *

"Oh my Gosh! You actually believe in Bigfoot? What are you, three?"

"Probably one!"

"If he's wasting his money buying those stupid books, he's probably still zero!"

"I bet he believes in the Loch Ness Monster too…no! You do?! You're even stupider than I thought!"

* * *

"Wow! Great to know that someone can do Maths so well! So what are you going to do? Use an equation to make you not totally suck? Or get a girlfriend? That _isn't_ in Canada?"

"Hey! He reads a lot of books guys! I guess that makes him the President of the school or something!"

"Well, if he was so smart, why does he dress like he pulled his clothes out of a toilet?"

* * *

"Look at that stupid birthmark! Do you have any idea how ugly it makes you? Now I'm not saying that you aren't ugly without it, because you are, but dang, were you born this much of a loser, or did you have to work on it?"

"Dang! Has any one kid been as pathetic as _Dipstick_ has his whole life? I swear, you'll win awards! It's the only thing you'll ever amount to. Every single thing about you is ugly."

* * *

Fifteen minutes had gone by since he fled. His sobs had made his presence obvious to everyone in the Shack, though only Mabel, Wendy, and Stan stood outside the door. Wendy looked anxiously in the direction of the sobbing, while Mabel looked down in pain and regret at what she did. Stan, having abandoned his more suspicious attire to his normal Mr. Mystery get-up, seemed the least concerned, but still was unquestionably worried.

Stan knocked. "Uh, kid? You probably shouldn't stay in there. The rats have been gettin' pretty hungry lately."

Wendy raised her hands in confusion and dismay. "Why do we have man-eating rats in the Shack?"

"Well, how else were we supposed to get rid of the roaches?" Stan asked, rolling his eyes that she could ask something so stupid.

"Then how are we gonna get rid of the rats?" Wendy growled.

Stan gave a smug smile. "Don't worry, I've got a shipment of poisonous snakes coming in tomorrow. That'll take care of it."

Before Wendy could explode, Mabel sighed. "This is all my fault, isn't it?"

Stan walked over and put a comforting arm over her shoulders. "Hey, there, there sweetie, don't say things like that!...But the answer's yes."

"Mr Pines!" snarled Wendy incredulously.

"Go away…" came the despondent voice from behind the door.

"I'll handle this," said Wendy, as she leaned against the wood to listen to him. "Dipper, please, come out. We're worried about you."

"…D-do you promise not to laugh?"

Wendy was taken aback. "Dipper, the last thing I want to do in this situation is laugh."

An uncomfortable amount of time passed before the handle turned, so much so that Mabel ran back upstairs, still too ashamed to confront her brother. Eventually, the door opened, and Dipper reluctantly shuffled out. Though looking down, they could still see what had become of his face. It was all red, not just from the sobbing, but the relentless rubbing to remove the make up. His fingers were smeared red from the paint being rubbed away, and the insides full of varnish he scratched off from his toes. Despite the rubbing, the mascara streaks were still obvious, as were the smudges everywhere. He felt even more conscious about his appearance than before, and considered himself painfully ugly. The sweater fabric felt like it burned into his skin, as did the skirt. He expected them to break into uproar at any point, but he could tell from the sound, or lack thereof, that they were genuinely distressed about his behaviour.

Wendy broke the ice. "Look, you don't have to explain anything Dipper. Mabel told me everything, so chill, I understand."

"But you don't," Dipper whimpered. "I liked doing those things. I liked acting like that, and I only got embarrassed when you saw me do them. It's just that…I'm so weird. I don't want to be weird, but I just am, and I'm never going to be happy. I was just so scared you'd stop liking me."

Wendy simultaneously felt somewhat worse, and somewhat better. On the one hand, she was hurt to see how deep-seated the problem was. The good news was that she knew how to comfort him.

"Dude," she smiled, sitting beside him on the floor, taking out her wallet, and putting an arm over Dipper's shoulders, a thrill that instantly made him feel better. "Look at these photos," she smiled, as it showed a Wendy at various ages, camping, woodcutting, and hunting cute animals.

"When I was young..." she began, before Stan's derisory snort cut her short. "Okay! When I was young _er_ , I always preferred to do guy stuff. It was way more exciting than playing with some stupid dolls all day. I didn't want to see a guy punch someone in the face to save me; I wanted to punch guys in the face! Look, so what if you like doing things that people _say_ girls like to do? Who cares? They're not your friends. We're your friends. And if you think that we're gonna stop liking you because you like dresses once in a while, ha, you're just being crazy!"

Dipper gave a reassured smile, and sighed in relief; Wendy hadn't rejected him after all. Stan then moved to the other side, and sat beside him there.

"Kid, I'm wanted in over thirty-nine countries, forty to be exact! I've mixed with the Mob, Communists, Illuminati, and if you think having fun with your sister on your downtime is gonna make me think less of you, then…uh…what Wendy said."

"Look Dipper," said Wendy, "I know you had a hard time back in Piedmont, Mabel told me all about it. I want you to know that not _one_ thing they bullied you about is true. You and your sis are literally the best thing that happened to Gravity Falls this summer! Your birthmark is great, you are ridiculously smart, and, for your age, you are extremely handsome. Weird? Trust me, the last thing you ever want to be is boring, and the last thing you are is boring. So 'weird away', and never change!"

Dipper blushed and stammered bashfully at the compliment.

"Now, go up and have some fun with your sister and her friends! Look, I talk to them when you aren't around, and let me tell you, they all love you to death, dude! Weirdness and all! Tell your sister how much you loved Girls' Night, and how don't give a heck what other people think about that."

Dipper nodded thankfully, wiping away his new, bittersweet tears, as he ran to the stairs to catch up with Mabel.

"And Dipper!" Wendy called out, just before she left sight.

"Yeah?"

"Stay weird!" she preached, a fist outstretched in defiance of the monotony of life. Stan gave the thumbs up to show his approval.

Content with their support, Dipper gave a thankful wave in return, as he ran back upstairs to the bedroom.

Mabel was sitting on her bed, dejected, Candy and Grenda trying to comfort her. At the opening of the door, her friends looked to Dipper, and waved their heads for him to come over and help his sister. Dipper was more than up to the challenge, as he darted towards her in rapture.

"Mabel!" he proclaimed, as he jumped on top of her into a hug, a move that Mabel did not anticipate. He jumped with so much force that they rolled over on top of each other, leaving Mabel on top. Her hair all messed up, a confused, but sincere smile began to gnaw at her frown, as Dipper continued to explode with energy. Candy and Grenda were touched at the duo's infectious bond, and stood back to let the two work it out together.

"Hi Dip," she replied, still awkward and regretful. "Look, about what happened, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you do this, that was wrong of me."

"What?! No! That was amazing! I never had more fun in the Shack than I did with you three! I was so tensed up after going on all these crazy adventures, I realized I just needed some time to kick back! Now, I have actual _friends_ the same age as me! I can actually talk about stuff I like, and adults don't just laugh! I was only scared because I thought Wendy would stop liking me, but then she started talking about how friends always support you, no matter how bizarre they appear to others. You all just accepted me, and I'm, like, the king of being weird and awkward! Thanks, Mabel! This was the best night ever!"

Mabel started to laugh in relief, even as her eyes watered from the compliment.

"Oh," added Dipper, "And one more thing. Do you think, maybe, I could, you know, come back next week?"

Mabel's former frown was destroyed under the blast of her smile, even as the tears began to flow, and she ensnared her brother in a warm, unyielding hug. "Dipper," she sniffled, "You're always welcome here…with us weirdos."

Dipper chuckled. "Thanks, Mabel."

"Oh!" she remembered, leaping off the bed, before kneeling down and clawing beneath it for something. Dipper stared in anticipation, waiting for whatever came out, before a shallow, rectangular box, a present, was held aloft in his sister's hands, Mabel holding a triumphant look on her face.

"This is for you!" she said, as she presented him with his gift.

Dipper looked in thankful astonishment at his sister and her offering, then to her friends, as if they had anything to do with this, though they seemed just as clueless as to what the box contained as he was. Dipper cautiously opened the package by peeling the top off, peeking slowly, so as not to let it all come too fast. He could see a further layer of paper on top of whatever present it was, and a note resting above.

As was good etiquette, or rather, as his parents beat into him, he read the note first. He picked it up, and read:

 _Dear Bro-Bro,_

 _I want you to know that I didn't like forcing you into this, so I'm sorry, but you were just so down and stressed recently. I just wanted you to relax a bit, because you deserve it after all you've done. Cheer up, bro! You have way more going for you than I do! You're so much smarter and braver than me, and you're going to be so successful when you're grown up! If anything's the matter, just call my name, and I'll be there for you. You're the best brother in the whole world, and I love you. Never forget that, because I'll never forget you._

 _-Mabel_

Dipper barely contained his tears at this announcement, but when he lifted the paper, and looked at the present, he couldn't stop crying. It was a white woollen sweater with blue frills and a blue Pinetree in the middle, to go with his hat, stitched his arms would fit, just as he'd have liked it. Candy and Grenda were likewise touched, but the only reaction Mabel cared about was her brother's.

"I, uh," she stammered, "I've been working on it for a few weeks. I was gonna use it for your birthday, but-"

Before she could say another word, Dipper said the only two she needed to hear: "It's perfect."

Mabel didn't say anything else; she just stopped and blushed happily.

"So what do we do now? asked Dipper excitedly.

"I don't know, what does everyone else think?" asked Mabel.

"Let's watch a movie! Movie! Movie!" Grenda chanted.

"What is Dipper's favourite movie?" asked Candy.

"Uh…" Mabel stalled, not wanting to embarrass her brother any more tonight.

"The Little Mermaid," said Dipper unapologetically, to Mabel's surprise, considering he never confessed that to anyone but her.

"YES!" roared Grenda like a possessed gorilla. "I'll set it up!"

"Me too!" cheered Candy, both leaving the Twins to stare back at each other, warmly and affectionately.

"Is Ariel the reason you like Redheads?" Mabel asked wickedly.

"Maybe. It's just a good thing Wendy doesn't know, huh?" Dipper smiled.

Mabel gritted her teeth. "Yeah…about that. I was kinda bluffing earlier. She already knows."

" _What_?"

"You talk when you…you know…"

Dipper slinked back to the bed in exhaustion. He had already been too embarrassed on the night to get embarrassed again.

"On the bright side, she does find it kinda cute!" Mabel reassured him.

It did reassure him; Wendy was one of the most accepting people he'd ever known. Maybe it was something about people from Oregon. _People_. Dipper understood everything at school apart from that. He wasn't hurting anyone, and yet people were always complaining about how he looked, and how he acted, as if he had to listen; he believed he did. Now, after he met Wendy, and snuggled into the love his sister had for him, he started to see that it was nonsense. He was going to enjoy himself, and do what he wanted to do, and to heck if anyone tells him how to live his life. 'After all,' he thought to himself, 'what's so bad about being weird anyways?'

 **DQG VWDQ PDGH KLV GHOLYHUB WR WKH LOOXPLQDWL ZLWKRXW D KLWFK**

 **THE END**


End file.
